Death in a Journal
by xkeyblademasterx.tumblr
Summary: You found my journal.Good for you, then. Read it if you want, but if you do, you'll be stuck reading it to the end. The very end. I'm just a 14 yr old girl, the town's schizophrenic. I also died. (thanks, Dad.) But for some reason, Death isn't permanent, I guess. I got pulled out of the dark by sand, and now a rabbit and a white haired guy are yelling at each other..R&R, T for gore
1. Chapter 1

**First Entry, 4/29/13 Sunday 11:50 pm, At I-Don't-Know-Where**

I didn't care. Not really, at least, when my mother told me. I wasn't surprised, either. Fifth grade had been hell. Fourth had been building up to it. So much yelling...So much riding my board up the street to my friends house to sit on her porch, even if she wasn't home, and acting as if I'd heard nothing. Not the things my mother said like, "If you love me, then why are you still seeing her?" to my father.

I had been sitting in her room, at her desk, doing my social studies homework. I was twelve years old, in my first year of Junior High, and it was May 6th when I dared to ask her as she came into the room,

"Are you and Daddy getting a divorce?"

And my mother just looked down. And said quietly to me, "Yes, honey. We are."

I didn't realize then how far my life would go down the drain.

* * *

I'm fourteen now. Even as I write my story, camped out in my new house, ten streets down from my old one, in the dark, ten minutes till midnight, I don't think it matters all that much. My cat, Otto, is snoring next to me. Clicky, tappy, click, clack goes my keyboard.

My name is Olivia. Every time I say that, I scoff. Peaceful. Like hell. I have a brunette pixie cut, I'm five feet and four inches tall, I'm too skinny, too pale and I have horrible eye sight. That's normal for a teen age girl, right?

Sure. Also, constant anxiety with a never-ending tremor in each hand and severe A.D.D and health problems caused by the medication, along with wishing my family out of the house, to leave me alone, _every minute of my life. _

People don't understand when I say, "I'm happy being alone," because they think it means I'm seriously sick. I need help, I need touches of affection, words, love, and sunshine. No, I don't. The thing is, when you live in a mind like mine, you have so many worlds, fantasies, and thoughts that no amount of people can replace. I could spend years daydreaming to my heart's content, and live more in a few months than a normal person could in two years.

That wasn't "normal" for a teen aged girl. Teen aged girls should be seeking out their style, of how to dress, do their hair, make up, making groups of friends, and joining clubs and activities. Not laying in bed, staring at the ceiling with blank eyes and a ghostly smile that made my mother angry at me. Because I saw things no one else did.

_"Get out of bed, you spend hours in here everyday!"_ _She huffed from the bedroom door. My sister slips out of the room. She avoids these moments._

_At first, I'm silent, as I pull myself from my current story I was weaving in my head. "Mum, I'm fine."_

_"It's beautiful outside, you need to go and do something, not just lay there!"_

It's beautiful here, too, _is what I think. "I don't want too. I like being alone, Mum, how many times do I have to say that?" I snap, as I begin to already lose my patience._

_The argument continues. Mum leaves, says something like, "Alright, fine, I'm the asshole, I can't do anything right, I try to reach out to you and get my head bitten off. Stay here alone, I won't bother you," with her cold sarcasm._

_I mumbled, "That's okay." and gaze at the ceiling again. Of course, when she says "I won't bother you" she never means it._

_She's back the next day to try again._

I have friends. A boy, who taught me how to shoot my first gun and lent me his specially engraved pocket knife when I was being stalked by my own father.

A girl, whom I'd known since a small age. She keeps my world full of new books, and me grounded.

My cat, who sits in silence at my side, more loyal than any other dog.

Those are all the friends I need.

To them, they know I'm okay being alone. Going outside for the day to hang out is enough to last me the next two months. The boy understands. The girl smiles, and tells me about a new book she's read, and says she'll bring it to me when she's finished. And then, they leave me alone, knowing I'll still be smiling when they're gone.

I have my dreams to keep me company, the last traces of frost on my window pane, and the obnoxious crows in the I-don't-know-what-kind-of-tree-yet outside my window to fill the night.

I smile again, as I spot the figure shooting across the sky in the night. He doesn't ever talk to me, because why would a nearly-a-woman person see him?

But I do. I see every single one of them.

The first time I tried to talk to them, the _Guardians._

That was when I died, twelve minutes ago. Would you like to hear how the story got there? Or after?

I don't think I can tell you. I'm sitting in the dark, and only my laptop. Otto died with me. What am I sitting on?

Why is it so warm?

I can smell incense. Am I in my bedroom again? Is my sister burning her favorite, Jamaican Spice?

_I see something. It's light. Don't go towards the light, I snicker, as the tendril curls towards my outstretched hand. When had I reached out towards this light?_

_No. It isn't light. It's..._

_It's sand?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Five weeks Earlier, 8:26 A.M Santoff Clausen North Pole-**

No one really understood why North called us all of a sudden. And everyone was dumb-struck when they got to the Pole, and North was staring very, very sadly at a file and a letter.

When they all asked why, he simply looked at Jack and handed him the letter, speaking quietly, "This is Jamie's Christmas wish."

_Hi, North. I know it's really early for Christmas letters, but this is really important. My cousin was taken to a hospital last week. Nobody is telling me what's wrong, but she's my best friend. The rest of the gang loves her, too, and her friends are worried. I don't know if she's sick, or if something else happened but I'm just asking for her to be home for this summer. Her name is Olivia._

_Sincerely, _

_Jamie Bennet_

_P.S HI JACK_

Jack pulled several photo's out of the envelope. A girl with thick, long chocolate curls, brown eyes, the same roundish face and an unusually thin frame wearing a softball uniform with one arm slung around a little boy, who was clutching her soft-ball mitt. She had a Second Place Girl's League medal around her neck, contrasting it's bronze against the pale blue of her Burgess Softball jersey. Jamie had to be about six in the picture, the girl eleven or twelve. Another picture, Jamie was older, and they were standing on a dock in swim suits, the girl in a regular black one piece, holding Jamie bridal style and threatening to toss him in the lake behind them. And one more, at Jamie's current age. The girl's smile was more ghostly, her hair cut in a short bob, wearing a white shirt with red sleeves, and a black cat on the front and jeans. It was just a normal picture of her, smiling from her seat on the front porch with her sketchbook resting on her knee, and Sophie trying to get her attention to show her a drawing.

"I searched for this girl," North spoke again, while Tooth and Bunny looked at the pictures. Tooth said quietly, "She has nice teeth."

Jack remained silent. Something was foreboding in North's voice.

"She is not in hospital. She is in a...psychiatric ward. She is schizophrenic, very bad. She was admitted last week after she broke down in her Social Studies class room and went into shock. However, she went missing during visiting hours two days ago."

"What happened to 'er?" Bunny asked, frowning.

Jack hated this. He didn't say anything, but he reached for the file on the table, only to have North snatch it away. "No, Jack. It...It's not good for children to read. Or anyone. Things she describes in her sight...They are straight from a nightmare."

"But she's missing?" Tooth fretted.

"Yes. We thought...Well, we could look for the girl. With pictures, Bunny might be able to use her scent or magic." North suggested.

Bunny shrugged, "These are a coupla years old, mate. I could give it a shot."

Jack stared at the ground, and said quietly, "I know who might have taken her. Jamie told me some stuff."

"Like what?" Tooth asked.

"Well, he's not sad in the summer when I'm not around because he spends every summer with her. She taught him to swim, and how to built real snow forts and..." Jack hesitated, but continued, "Her father is convicted for abuse a year ago. Jamie was traumatized, because she never told him how bad it was. And he's mentally ill. That's all he told me, because that's all she told him. If he was on parole, maybe he broke into the hospital and..." Jack let the sentence hang.

"What do you think he's capable of, Jack?" North frowned.

"I think he's capable of really bad things."

* * *

**Day of Admittance-**

I swayed slightly in my seat. My clothes are gone. I'm wearing underwear, of course, but now just a white hospital gown. They gave me something. Everything is tilting back and forth a little.

"Alright, I'll just ask you some questions..."

I mumbled angrily in reply. I'm fine.

"What is your name?"

"What's yours?"

The shrink at the desk peers over her glasses at me. A petite, Asian woman who's lipstick is a bright pink, and is wearing poorly applied liquid eyeliner. Like my Language Arts teacher. "Amy." she replies.

"Olivia. See how this works? Hehe...equivalent exchange..."

"How old are you?"

"My fifth teacher said a girl doesn't have to answer three questions. Weight, age and if your diamonds are real."

Amy frowned more at me. I smile innocently. But my smile falters when I see something dash across the room. I cringe when I realize it's another one of _those demons. _The black horses, with jutting bones and yellow eyes. It whinnies at me, cocking it's head. Maybe...

"What are you doing?" Amy demands.

I realized I was reaching my hand out toward it's nose. It backs away from my touch, and I lower my hand. "Oh, just playing the part of a nut-case. Nice horsey...black demon...thingamabob."

I continue to smile as Amy continue to frowns. She calls in the same two men who brought me here. They guided me from my chair back to my room. I continue as I do at home.

Lay in my bed.

And dream.

* * *

_I'm at the lake, again, standing with my toes against the dock's edge. My cousin Jamie clings to my arm, mumbling, "It's too deep. I can't learn to swim in that!"_

_"Aw, come on, bud! I learned to swim here!"_

_"No, you crawled into the lake when your parent's weren't looking and they had no choice but to teach you at age two!" he protested._

_I laughed, and ruffled his thick brown hair with my free hand. He smiles again. I love that smile. Cutest kid in the world. But then he frowns, "What's that on your arm?"_

_I blinked, and looked at my free arm, the one he wasn't clinging to, and remember the faintly green and yellow bruises encircling my bicep. I can't tell him. He's too innocent, too happy. I don't want to poison that. I don't want to tell him, "Bud, my dad did this and he's not supposed to, but I let him do it anyway, but that's okay." _

_So, I do what I do best. I lie to him. "I got hit in the arm by the ball at my last practice. I was playing first. Eighty one miles per hour, ouch!" _

_He winced, "Could that have broken your arm?"_

_"Nah. This won't, either."_

_"What?"_

_He shouts in surprise when I push him off the dock into the water. At first, he flails and panics in the five feet deep water, because the seven year old is barely four feet and eight inches. He goes under for only a second before I'm in the water with him, and holding him over the surface, teaching him how to tread the water._

_He punches me in my not-bruises arm, but clings with his arms around my neck. "That was a dirty trick."_

_"Aww, come on, it was fun!"_

_Fun._

_I always taught that kid how to have fun. I wonder how I did that when I never could, for myself._

* * *

Jamie sat at his desk, flipping through a photo album. It was a week until school ended. He should have been on the phone, laughing with his best friend, his cousin, on speaker phone while Sophie chanted, "Lake, lake, lake!" in excitement. Olivia was going to teach her to swim that summer. She was going to let Jamie use her archery bow, and climb the tallest tree in the woods with her, finally, as long as he was careful. Fun and reckless as she was...She always wanted him to be safe. Jack would have liked her, too. But she lived in Chicago. And now she was gone, and no one told Jamie anything. He spent the whole summer with her, but never the winter. She never got to meet Jack, but she believed. She believed everything Jamie did.

Olivia believed in everything, and she'd taught Jamie that every piece of supernatural and magic was _real. _Without her, he never would've believed in the Guardians in the first place.

* * *

**A/N yay, new chapter! I started this to show my darker tendencies, and I'm having fun with it. I'm throwing in some stuff I have...experience with. (dad troubles, lake house, summer being my favorite time of year (FUCK YOU SCHOOL MEH EVIL BE GONE) ) **

**Olivia is another O.C. I did base her looks off of mine, because after I saw the movie, my friends said I could cosplay an older Jack's Sister or Jamie. And I thought it'd be easier to write her if I threw a little of myself into the character.**

**So, for writing yours O.C's: Always put a small part of yourself in the character. It helps you dig a little deeper. :D Random advice.**

**R AND R**

**(for anyone reading this, if you like it, check out Pitch's Old Comrade please, and R and R that. It's my biggest fanfic, my first and while waiting for new chapters on this, you have something else to read. :D)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Third day in the Psychiatric Ward, some time before six a.m and after eleven p.m, Reflecting Memories-**

I wondered if anyone tried to visit me. Andrew and Clara, definitely, but they were minors. Kicked out, most likely. Mom? No.

She wasn't my real mother, in case I forgot to mention. The lady I call "Mom" who hates me, and calls me a lazy ass, anti-social weirdo? Well, that would be my step-mother. She forced me to call her Mom to prevent "suspicions" from the school of a bad home. The word "Mom" was dead to me now.

My real mother shot herself.

_Of course, I knew it wasn't a suicide. I saw her hand around my father's gun, fingers clenched around the handle. But her finger was not on the trigger. I told the police, over and over, "It's murder, it's murder, why aren't you looking?! Are you completely dense?!" I screamed at them as they zipped her up in the body bag to be taken to the coroner. But then I realized, her hand was on the trigger the next time I'd come to look, after calling the police there. My father wasn't home, but either someone had moved her hand, or I'd made a mistake. My father hadn't been home, he hadn't been..._

_Had he? Had I even looked?_

_I don't know anymore. I remember the gun shot, and the door slamming, hurling my twelve year old body off the bed and nearly tumbling in circles as I desperately ran to my mother's room. It was two weeks after the divorce was filed._

_I had no proof. And I had no will. I was forced to live with that man._

_A week after, I stood in the tiny kitchen of our lake house. I stared as he grabbed a can of beer from the fridge. Disgusting stuff. Acquired taste? No. More like Stockholm Syndrome, or something like that. I backed away against the counter, and finally, summoning up all the bravery I had in my scrawny, ninety two pound body, I whisper, "I know you did it."_

_"What?" he snaps, closing the nearly-empty fridge. _

_"S-she didn't shoot hers-s-self." I tried making my voice steady. I really did, but I couldn't. "You're a m-murderer."_

_"Pfft. You're right, you runt. But if I'll make sure you don't tell anyone." he snarled, marching forward. On instinct, I raised my arms in defense, but not fast enough. The cold, tin beer can smashed against my cheek, snapping my head to the side. Really, was that the weapon of choice? Well, it hurt more than I expected._

_He hit me, over and over. My arms, chest, stomach, head. But never anywhere that couldn't be covered up by normal clothes. Finally, he just left me there on the floor, laying there crumpled on my side. I ran my tongue over my teeth, some of them knocked loose. If I didn't worry them, they'd tighten back up again. I shakily raised my hand to my head, and brushed my fingers over every inch. No skull fractures. _

_This wasn't the first time he'd beaten me. That's how I knew to check for injuries._

_And then Jamie came over the next week to spend the summer with me. I smiled. I laughed. I pretended it didn't hurt when he tackled me in a hug, a hug that pressed my fresh, blackening bruises that I kept hidden so he wouldn't see._

_But he found out anyway, and it broke his heart. Her father had nearly beat her to death for finally breaking, and screaming at him, how much she hated him, that he could rot and burn in hell, and she would never, EVER let him hurt her again._

_And then he shattered the bone in her arm, broke her ribs and left her with a collapsed lung on the back porch, wheezing. He'd clubbed her in the head with something, but she'd never seen what it had been. When the police investigated, they found her wooden softball bat with her blood on it. Puzzle pieces fit together. _

_They caught him, and locked him up. She lived with her step mother. From physical abuse, to verbal. Isn't life just great?_

I blink the memories away, and sit up in my bed, and rub my fingers against my upper arm, over the jagged scars I'd received from the glass of a smashed bottle from some alcoholic beverage or another my father had on hand the day she'd gotten home from school too late for his liking. I wasn't in the hospital anymore. I don't know where I am, really. A bed, in a damp, old shed. It's storming outside. I like storms. But I don't like the scars that are constantly reminding me of pain, and cowardice. I used to care.

I used to cry.

I used to rage.

I used to _fear._

But now...It's all just apathy.

* * *

**Same day, a little earlier in time-**

"Jamie, do you want to talk?" Jack asked as the boy let him climb through the window. "I mean, you've been really down lately..."

"No. It just makes me feel worse." Jamie responded angrily, flopping back down on his bed with his arms folded behind his head. Jack sighed and hovered just over the mattress next to him.

"When was the last time you saw her?" he asked gently.

"D-don't want to t-talk." Jamie mumbled, rolling over and laying flat on his stomach, with his fast buried in the quilt. Jack tried to roll him over, saying, "Come on, you'll just smother yourself that way."

Jamie sighed, and turned his head to the side, folding his arms under his head, and resting his cheek against his hands. Jack just waited patiently. Jamie wasn't always sad, or hurting. And when he was, he had his limit. Jack could see it, looming closer and closer. He'd break soon, and everything would come tumbling forward, all at once. Jack had been there a few times before when it happened. He got a new cat, but it died of heart failure, thus scarring him and Sophie for life. He and Claude got into a fight when Claude's parent's divorced, of misunderstood words and feelings, a fight that ended with the words, "I hate you!"

Both times, Jamie said he didn't want to talk. Jack sat and waited.

Both times, Jamie broke down, until there was nothing left and smiled gratefully at Jack for being there.

"I saw her last at the hospital a year ago," Jamie finally whispered brokenly. "But she wasn't awake at first. Sh-she was covered in bruises, Jack. She's always really, I dunno, fair, I guess. Pale, in a good way. But now...She was black and blue, and her head was banded, her arm was in a cast and she couldn't breath on her own, so there was this really loud machine next to the bed..."

Jamie shivered, and buried his face back in the quilt, as tears burned his eyes. Jack lay down next to him, rubbing his back comfortingly. "S'okay, Kiddo. You don't have to go through all the details."

"Liv calls me kiddo," Jamie mumbled, "And bud, and Jimmy."

Jack smirked, "You don't let anyone call you Jimmy. Or Jim, either."

"Well, only because she's the first and only one who does...It's like...I dunno, she's got the right to?" Jamie turned his head to look at Jack again. "She woke up about half an hour after I got there. Mom had taken Sophie home, since visiting hours were seven to eight...Sophie's bed time."

Jack nodded subtly for him to keep talking. Jamie swallowed, "Sh-she just grinned at me. Laying there, she couldn't even move, and she just smiled like she always does, and asked me, "What's up with the frown, Bud?" like she was perfectly fine, and I was the one who needed a pick-me-up!"

"Then she must love you a lot." Jack said simply. "You can't do anything about that. And we'll find her."

"How?"

"Magic. Bunny can use magic."

"Jack, weren't you looking for...?" Jamie began, but then he caught Jack's look.

Agony. Grief. Sadness. Loss. Talk-about-it-and-you'll-have-frostbite-on-your-ki dney. Generally his facial expression. Jamie let it drop.

Some things were too painful to talk about, no matter how much you needed too.

Pain overcomes needs.

* * *

My stomach hurts. I hadn't eaten in a few days. In my vision, those black horses, the demons, and my sister mill about.

Yes, my sister, Aria. Same thick, dark hair as mine, but much, much darker, down to her waist. Not much older than me, with sea green eyes, and tanner skin. She looks more like my mother, my REAL mother. The skin, and the eyes...But her hair is pitch black. I'm not sure why. I like the color. I like her.

She's not real. But at least she's always there.

"Hey, Ari, think I'm gonna die?"

She stares at me as if I'm insane. (oh wait, I probably am!) I just smirk, "Just thinkin' out loud, sis."

Honestly, I couldn't care if I died. Good thing, too.

Dad just walked in, and he's got a wicked looking, serrated kitchen knife.

* * *

"So? What did you find out?" Bunny asked as Jack returned to the Warren.

Jack rubbed his eyes tiredly, "He saw Olivia a year ago. Her father had nearly beaten her to death with her soft ball bat. After than, they shipped him off to jail, patched her up and dumped her with her stop Mom. When she was put in the psychiatric ward, that was the first time Jamie had heard from her since he'd visited her in the hospital," he recapped. Sighing, he slouched against his staff. "Poor kid's been through a lot."

"Yeah...you...aren't going to like this."

Jack's dark, serious expression hardened when Bunny pulled a newspaper from the strap of the boomerang sheath on his back, and handed it to Jack. "It's Chicago Tribune. No news to Burgess, not yet. About a week before it spreads, but for the Bennett household...a few days at most."

Jack stared at the headline.

**FOURTEEN YEAR OLD STABBED TO DEATH**

_Olivia Joanna Bennett was fourteen years old, and three months away from turning fifteen when she was put into the Psychiatric Hospital for minors, to be treated for severe schizophrenia. The same girl was taken away from an abusive father a year before, after he'd nearly killed her with a baseball bat. She was found in the shed by the abandoned lighthouse two miles from her lake house by Lake Michigan, stabbed thirty seven times, wrists and ankles bound. Cause of death was suffocation from internal bleeding from the lungs. The weapon used was a serrated kitchen knife commonly used in most households. Suspected culprit was an escaped convict, Anthony Bennett, the girl's father._

_Investigating to find her has become an investigation to find her killer._

Jack stared in horror at the picture of a body bag being carried from a run-down utility shed to a squad car. It hadn't been zipped up all the way. He could see her shoulder, arm, and face. The dark splotches of blood, black from the color-devoid photo...It was her. It was Olivia.

"Murder is against the laws of death, you know." Bunny said suddenly. "Usually. We could talk to the Grim Reaper, ask him if she was on the to-die list. If not, we can do something about it."

Jack hesitated. Getting his hopes up to be dashed? No. He'd tried talking to the Grim Reaper once, to help...Never mind. That person was long gone now, no matter how the truth drove him insane. He debated his options.

"Alright, Bunny. Let's go have a chat with Death."


	4. Chapter 4

**One day after Olivia's death, Dusk, Death's Realm-**

"So where do we find Death?" Jack asked, clambering into the sleigh.

"Actually, we don't." Tooth said, settling down next to him, "He'll come to us. Technically, She's a nature spirit. Or he. I don't know what form Death is taking lately, Death is an entity, not a specific species or gender. But anyway, Death has contact to all nature spirits. Bunny called him, and we're meeting up at Stonehenge."

"Um, why Stonehenge?" Jack frowned.

"Death likes scenery. It was either that, or the Blood Falls in the Arctic, and Bunny would have popped a vein if we said yes to that."

Jack would have smiled, if it wasn't for the knot in his stomach. He found it impossible to be cheerful. Jamie's cousin was just gruesomely murdered, and the Bennett family didn't even know yet. When Jamie found out, this was going to break the kid's heart. And Jack had promised that things would turn out alright. Jack sighed, and put his forehead against his staff, trying to calm down. He wasn't sure why he was so edgy, Death wasn't cruel or anything. Death was...merciful. Death wasn't going to do anything to him. But he just had a bad feeling anyway.

"Bunny is going to meet us there." Tooth added, as North took the reins, and the sleigh jolted forward. Jack sank back in his seat, clutching his staff to his chest, and trying his best not to dig his fingernails into the wood. Tooth shot him a sideways glance, "Jack? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He muttered, straightening up, and looking out ahead as the sleigh burst into open air. "I just...have a bad feeling about this."

* * *

It took only half an hour to get there, with the snowglobe and all. As the sleigh touched down in the grass, Jack was already off the sleigh, and running into the midst of the stones. Stonehenge? Really?

He'd heard Death was dramatic, but honestly...Jack shook his head, waiting for the others. Bunny was already waiting. Jack stopped behind him, "Hey."

Bunny turned around, feeling his stomach plummet. Jack hadn't even called him kangaroo. He knew things were bad, but the kid was so serious now, it honestly scared him. "Hey yourself," Bunny replied, trying to sound upbeat. But it was hard with Jack's facial expression. The boy looked so tired, grim and as if he was filled with dread. He probably was.

"Listen, Death isn't a bad spirit-" Bunny began.

"I know." Jack interrupted, sounding irritated, "But Death is strict. That's what's making me nervous."

"Well, we can't do anything about how strict Death is. We'll just have to wait until they show up."

Bunny had a point. Jack sat down in the grass, and stubbornly pressed his thumb against his lip, chewing the already uncomfortably short nail. He was a nail biter, and it was a terrible habit. Tooth had eventually broken him out of it, but when his stress levels skyrocketed, it was right back to chewing down the nail to a nub. And when they were too short to bite anymore, he chewed on his bottom lip, right up till it bled a little bit.

Which he'd already done. Little red marks on his lip, almost bite-mark like, showed that he had not been doing so well. Bunny silently sat down next to him, so their shoulders were almost touching. Reaching over, he placed his paw over Jack's hand and pushed it away from his mouth, saying quietly, "Tooth'll flip her lid if she sees you're doing that again."

Jack simply grunted in response, but stopped with the nail chewing.

Soon, North and Tooth joined them, and they were all sitting in a row, following Jack's lead. The silence was unbearable, and Jack finally couldn't take it anymore, and asked, "Where's Sandy?"

The Guardians jumped, startled at his sudden question. Tooth spoke up, "He's out doing his job. And making sure Jamie sleeps okay."

Jack fell silent again. He could imagine Jamie staying up all night worrying about his cousin, having bad dreams about what could have happened...What already happened. She was dead. His best friend was dead. And Jack had promised it would be alright. What a stupid thing to do...The world was darker than Jack thought, and he forgot that too often. He knew Jamie's fear of loss too well, and now Jamie was going to find out what it was like for that fear to come true, just like Jack had.

"Hello."

All the Guardians jumped at the soft, mellow voice behind them. Turning, they saw a figure, tall and slender, clothed in pristine white robes, and a filmy veil over their face. The face behind had smooth, white skin, thin lips of the palest pink, high cheek bones, and seemingly blind white eyes. Their hair was long and the palest shade of silver, straight and waist length, all one length. On her head, there was a crown of silver, almost bone like, delicate looking and standing out over the white. Jack was surprised. She was pretty, and radiated peace. This was Death? He'd expected more of a traditional Grim Reaper.

"It's been a long time, Guardians," she smiled through the veil, an empty smile of kindness but with no promise that made Jack's heart flutter at first and then sink. As they all stood, Death spoke, "I understand what you've come to ask of me. We have much to discuss."

* * *

Jamie would not sleep. He sat downstairs on the couch, staring out the window at the street. It was so late at night, and he could see Sandy's dream sand. If he didn't go up to bed, it'd take Sandy a few minutes longer to find him.

He didn't want to sleep. The nightmares came. Of people dressed in black, crying, and gathered in a tight circle. Jamie, also dressed in black, forced to walk through them no matter how much he willed his feet to stop moving, until finally he saw the coffin. But it was never open. Yet, it still made him wake up, sweating and holding back hot tears, and feeling sick to his stomach with dread.

Jamie blinked out of his dark thoughts as he heard the crunch of gravel, a car pulling up on the street in front of his house. Sitting up, he saw it was a car from the Mental Institution, back where Olivia was supposed to be.

"No," Jamie whispered, "Please...this is the wrong house, go away..."

The person driving got out of the car, and began heading up the drive way. It was a man, dressed in black. Jamie scrambled off the couch, running up to the front door, and locked it with trembling fingers, "Go away, go away..." he begged, as the stairs creaked behind him, his mother descending the steps, and calling to him who was at the door.

Jamie flinched as his mother laid a hand on his shoulder, and pulled him back, "Mom, no! Don't open the door, please-!"

"Go upstairs," his mother told him, as she unlocked the door and the doorbell rang. Jamie protested, "No! Pretend we're not home!" Because if they did that, he wouldn't have to hear the bad news. It wouldn't have to be real. It would just go away.

"Jamie, go upstairs." she repeated, opening the door.

As his mother greeted the man, Jamie trudged up the stairs, his heart fluttering in his chest, and his breath stopping in his chest. He'd barely made it up the stairs when he heard the man ask, _"What is your relationship to the deceased?"_

Jamie's whole world shut down. It shattered, and rained down in shards that cut him right to the core, and he knew he couldn't run away from it. He heard himself screaming at the man to get the hell away from here, that he was a stupid fucking liar. He cursed, and screamed, storming down the stairs. His mother held him back, told him to calm down, as he thrashed and shouted. And when the man finally left, his knees buckled, a wail building up in his throat, choking off into a sob and broken whimpers. His mother cradled him, shutting her eyes tightly against her own tears, stroking his chestnut hair, and whispering that it would be okay.

And Jamie sobbed and wailed, and mumbled that it would never be okay, it didn't have to be okay, because it couldn't be true. And finally, Jamie's cries ebbed to shuddering gasps and hiccups, and his tears flowed more slowly as his eyes drifted shut, and he fell silent. He'd cried himself to sleep, his mother thought. His mother couldn't see the sand drifting through the window, silencing her son's grief. She didn't believe. The dream sand came late, it didn't come in time to save Jamie from the first time horror and pain. But it was here now.

And it was a blessing.

* * *

**A/N soooo sorry, guys. Really, I have no excuse. I'll update faster now. Anywho, here's my portrayal of Death, and broken/grief stricken Jamie. I had writer's block with this, sorry if it's no good. Next chapter will be better.**

**Good to be back, guys. If you review, I promise to update faster. :D**


	5. Chapter 5

Andrew walked out of the dry cleaners, folding the black formal suit over his arm, and heading back to his bike. Folding up the plastic bag holding the suit on the hanger, he set it down in the basket of the bike. For a moment, the teenager paused, leaning on the bike rack, and pressing his hand against his tired eyes. He hadn't slept since his friend had been sent to the Mental Institute.

He'd tried to visit her. But they wouldn't let him past the front desk. He tried to bring her favorite books from the library, but they wouldn't take them. He brought her sketch book and pencils, her scrapbook...It was like they didn't want her to have anything of her own. Or anything from the outside world.

And when he'd brought a necklace from a comicon, a little libra symbol, because she always went on about this webcomic called Homestuck and one of her favorite characters named Terezi had something big to do with the Libra horoscope, he'd known she would've loved it. And when they wouldn't take that either, he'd exploded and demanded why. And they'd told them she could strangle herself with it. She could've scratched herself or hung herself with the spiral of the sketch book, or stabbed herself with the pencils...

She would have tried to kill herself, they'd told him. Clara had come with him that day, and she'd cried the entire way back to her house. He'd given her a ride on his bike, and he'd never admit it...but he'd cried, too. How could they never have known Liv had been suicidal? How could they have taken so long to find out her father abused her? That her mother was shot? That she was schizophrenic?

Andrew had always thought he'd know Liv from the tips of her toes, to the top of her head. From her lopsided half smiles to her almost black, brown curls, to the way she made hand gestures when she spoke, the ups and downs in her voice, the little jump in her step because she would always never walk if she could run.

He'd gotten pegs on his bike so he could give her rides whenever she asked. To the library, to the woods, anywhere she'd wanted to go. Because with Olivia went outside, it was rare. She was _the _introvert. She liked being inside in a world of silence, and she was happy. Andrew used to think that there was something wrong with her.

That wasn't true. She was happy. What was wrong with being happy? There was nothing to understand, nothing to fix. She hadn't seemed sad. She'd get sudden urges to go outside, and pop up on his doorstep, smiling and asking if he wanted to ride bikes down to the ice cream parlor on main street. She'd pick all the weirdest flavors, and jump up and down, and shove a napkin in his face when he got icecream smeared all over his face, laughing.

He could make her laugh, and smile. God, he missed that so much. And Clara wouldn't stop crying. Clara had known her since they were nine. He'd only known her for two years, and yet...

Andrew yanked his bike off of the bike rack, picking it up, and slamming it down on the concrete, knocking the pegs off the back wheel. Several people jumped, and stared, backing away, or walking faster down the side walk. Andrew kicked the back wheel, and turned around, kicking the bike rack, over and over, as if to make the bolts that held it in the concrete give way. They almost did. And when he was too tired to continue the violence, he plunked down on the ground, clenching his fingers in his overgrown, auburn hair, and trying not to scream his head off. He thought he'd known her better than anyone! So how the hell could he have known all those times he made her smile, it was _fake!?_

Finally, he stopped, yanking his damaged bike off the ground, and standing up on the pedals, heading up the hill of the street. He needed to get home, to his little brother and mother.

He had a funeral to get ready for.

* * *

Clara pinned her blond hair back in it's bun. She had short bangs, that she swept to the side in a gentle curve over her brow. Her hair was incredibly fair, almost a golden white. The freckles that saddled her nose were faint, almost invisible. She had sea green eyes, a kaleidoscope of blues and greens. A gently sloped nose, and thin, nicely shaped lips, a round face.

Olivia had always admired her. Clara had never know it, but Olivia had wished she'd looked like Clara. Everyone thought Clara was beautiful. But they'd also thought she was shallow, and anti-social, because every time you tried to talk to her, she glared daggers at you. Well, people didn't know it was rude to interrupt someone while they were reading. She loved books more than anything. All she wanted to do was read, and write poems. She loved to play the cello, and clarinet. She loved dogs, and wasn't afraid to punch someone in the face if they were really asking for it. She was tall, about five feet and six inches. She was softly spoken, but if you pushed her, she'd explode and cut you down with words faster than you could even realize what you had done.

Clara smoothed the skirt of her black dress, and tugged the black ballet flats onto her feet. The dress had a knee length skirt, a high neck, and short sleeves. Simple. Black.

Depressing.

Clara slowly descended the stairs. She lived with her eighteen year old twin brothers, Nolan and David, two tall and gangly blonds with far more freckles on their faces than Clara, and greener eyes. They had wide grins, and sly, sneaky demeanors that said that they always knew something you didn't, which they most likely did. They finished each other's sentences, and often spoke cryptically, or comically. They reminded Clara of a pair of Cheshire cats. They, too, were dressed in matching black suits, and their wide, toothy grins were absent.

When your little sister's best friend is violently murdered, it's more than enough to dampen anyone's grins.

* * *

Death was friendly then Jack ever expected. They all sat in a circle, the Guardians a short distance from Death, who knelt on her knees elegantly. Jack sat in the middle of the Guardians, as Bunny silently insisted he do. Jack didn't argue. It made him feel a little less uneasy.

"Your friend James' cousin is the topic of the conversation?" Death asked.

"Jamie. He hates being called James," Jack replied.

"Did you know her?"

"No."

"Such a shame, she was one of your believers."

Jack was speechless for a moment. He still didn't have a lot, but every single one counted. She wasn't just his best friend's cousin, she was one of his believers, a child he had pledged to protect. Jack flinched as he felt a small, slender hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. Without looking, he knew it was Tooth. Bunny spoke up, "She was murdered. We just want t'know, was she on the To Die list?"

"Yes, but she didn't die the way she was supposed to." Death replied cryptically.

All the Guardians fell silent, before Tooth spoke up, "And how was she supposed to die?"

"Suicide."

The answer was so simple, so direct, but it was just so...horrifying. Bunny's fur bristled, and his ears flattened, eyes wide in shock. Tears threatened to fall from Tooth's eyes, finally, after she'd been a real rock for Jack through this entire ordeal. North simply could not speak, so he simply put his arm around Tooth, and pulled her close as she began to cry silently, just a few tears, unable to hold herself entirely together. But who could blame her? Things were just awful now.

Jack, however, reacted faster than any of them thought possible, "And what does that mean for her? She didn't die the way she was supposed to, so can't you bring her back?"

"I won't."

"Why not?!"

Death's milky white eyes were impossibly intense as she stared at Jack, and Jack forced down the urge to shrink back from the burning gaze. He stared back with his own bold cerulean eyes. Death began to speak, "She was going to try to kill herself by breaking off a piece of her bed frame. She has quite a powerful kick, you see. She's very fit. And she was going to slash her wrists with it. If that didn't work, she would have found another way. But she wouldn't have to. She would kill herself. Why would I bring someone back who doesn't want to live?"

Bunny spoke up this time, "What if you give her a test?"

"...Explain?"

"Give her a test, if she passes, bring her back."

"And what sort of test would you suggest?" Death demanded.

Tooth wiped her eyes, and spoke up, "To make a choice?" North decided to throw in his two cents right then, "A choice if she wants to live or not?"

"To teach her the value of life," Death murmured. This was highly irregular, but...not forbidden. "Very well. Jack is the one who wishes for her life to be returned, he can administer the test. He will have to find out how to show her that life is of the greatest values, and if she fails, he must return her soul to me for her to be judged on her after life arrangements. If she passes, I will replace all the memories of those aware of the murder with every day memories. It will be as if she was never gone. If she fails, she will remain dead. Jack cannot try to sway her decision. If he does, Jack will be punished as well. Three years in the Fields of Punishment, it's much more mild than Hell. He is, after all, a child. Jack Frost, do you accept?"

Before the Guardians could speak up, Jack answered, "I do. When do I start?" he asked, as Death stood, and white fog began to drift over the frosted ground, enveloping her as she spoke, "Now. Start thinking, Jack. She was already dead inside before she was murdered...I'm curious to see how you will bring that part back to life."

And Death was swallowed up in the fog, and as it cleared, she was gone. Jack felt the air leave his lungs in a _woosh _and he felt light headed, and overwhelmed all of a sudden. He wasn't sure if he could...

No.

He was going to figure this out, and he was going to help this child. She was barely fifteen, that's not grown up, not nearly, no matter what anyone says. He was seventeen, and still a child. Actually, three hundred and twenty five. But physically and mentally, seventeen. He wasn't going to give up on her, even if she gave up on herself.

Gave up on herself...

Jack stood up, and turned to the Guardian's, "I actually think I can figure this out." he smiled. Bunny blinked, shocked to see the smile. It was stretching across his face, all tired and worn, threatening to fall, but it was real. Like a crack in a stone statue. An ice sculpture. "Do ya now? What're you thinkin' of, Frostbite?"

"Well...she gave up on herself to live, right?" Jack said slowly. Tooth and North exchanged looks, both just as bewildered as to where he was going with this. Bunny nodded, looking uncomfortable, "That's, uhm, that's what suicidal means, yes..."

"But what about others? Her friends, the people who cared? Maybe she didn't know how MUCH they cared. Maybe if she sees that, she'll be able to live, even if it's not for herself, but for the people worth it. That's...that's a good enough reason, right?" Jack looked at all of them, eyebrows creasing and searching for their reply.

Bunny stood up, and let out a tired, relieved and impressed laugh, "Jeez, mate. Where do you get this stuff from? That's...that's bloody brilliant! How did ya think of that?"

Jack's smile faded. "Uh...I dunno. I'm just a wise old spirit?"

The Guardians actually laughed at the fake joke, and Jack fake-laughed to avoid suspicion. He didn't want them to know where he'd gotten that from. That he hadn't just thought of it just now, but told it to himself on the dark nights, at the most miserable times, where the pain was crushing, and it was really just time to give up...

He knew it because he had to tell himself to live for others to keep from letting himself disappear.

* * *

**A/N Heeeyyy, I said I'd update quick, right? Yay! See, I got three reviews, that spend things up, did it not? You're all learning the flow here! You want a chapter, I want reviews!**

**Anyway, so this story is dedicated to people who are like Olivia. Hurt, scared, different, no one understands them, distant and alone, etc, etc...Just like Jack. It will be revealed soon why Jack is so cryptic lately, and seemingly having thoughts of ending his own life, as shown in this chapter. You'll find out what happened, don't worry. And you got a clear look at Olivia's two best friends.**

**Yes. Andrew loves Olivia. For all of you guys who guessed it, they're an OTP on the way! **

**Back to my point.**

**Even if I don't know you, if you're one of the people ready to disappear, please just live long enough to see the end of this story. This story is for people who don't want to live anymore, to show them that there are reasons you might have never thought of to keep your heart beating. I've been coping with two suicidal friends, and a suicidal sister. I'm surrounded by self harm, hurt, and fear. And they're wonderful people who don't deserve it. Why are the nicest people the most hurt?**

**I don't know. I never will. So if you're just really down in the dumps, and truly miserable, and people are cruel and bullies...You must be a really, really amazing person. And for those of you who have friends like this, and you don't know how to cope with it? Come talk to me, I'll give advice to anyone. Or you could show them this story. It's meant to help. It seems dark now, but there's a light at the end of this tunnel. **

**It's been a tough past few days for me. I have to say it a lot, but for the readers who need it, just like Olivia does, take it from me. I honestly mean it. If you need a sign to tell you this, this is it.**

**Please don't kill yourself tonight**


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